


The depth of winter

by theonetruenorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (even though he totally is), Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, And Alec is not Helen of Troy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because I am a dork, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crossover, Embedded Images, Fanart, Kissing, M/M, No GOT characters, Political Alliances, Too much research done that no one will notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetruenorth/pseuds/theonetruenorth
Summary: “You are risking everything.” Alec whispers, finally opening his eyes and looking into Magnus’ own. When they are this close, he can see tiny specks of gold in the Prince’s dark irises. “You are going to lead Dorne into war with Valentine. For me.”“Oh, darling,” Magnus laughs a little and Alec feels his heart beat faster upon hearing the affectionate name. “If there was ever a good reason to start a war, it would be for love.”Where Valentine is the mad king, Magnus is the Prince of Dorne and Alec is definitely not the Helen of Troy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tweaked some of the facts a little bit to fit more into the canon of both TV shows instead of the books. ‘Coming of age’ is reaching eighteenth birthday, not sixteenth. There are also some ideas from the TTG video game thrown in.
> 
> Also, have I spent WAY too much time browsing through my “A Feast of Ice and Fire” cookbook? Yes. Yes, I have.
> 
> Morghon/Morghot - “Death” in High Valyrian

 

> _“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”_
> 
> _― Albert Camus_

 

Alec stands next to his father in the great hall, discussing the possible terms of the trade they are going to settle when a messenger interrupts their meeting. The delegation from Dorne has been spotted at the bottom of the winding path that leads up to Idris castle. It won’t be long before they make it to the top, so Robert orders his family out to the courtyard to wait for their guests and greet them properly.

The castle is a buzz of activity, people running back and forth. The staff is in a mild state of panic - they have been for couple of days now - not only because of the arriving guests, but also due to Alec’s eighteenth name day celebration that is a little over two weeks away. Alec really, _really_ doesn’t think that any kind of festivity is warranted just for his coming of age, but it’s tradition and Lightwoods are - if nothing else - traditionalists.

Alec stands at his father’s right side, Isabelle on his left, then Max. His mother would have also stood by their father’s side, but giving birth to Max proved to be too much for her body and she passed away shortly after bringing him into this world. At the end of the line is Jace, whose father was assassinated years ago and Robert took in his friend’s son as his ward.

The Dornish party is over forty people strong, but only a dozen or so come up to the castle and the rest set up camp in the village below. Alec stands up a little taller as the visitors enter the courtyard, the sound of horses announcing their arrival even before they’ve entered the gates. Alec has seen Dornishmen before, so their dark skin and sharp features aren’t that much of a surprise. They arrive on sand steeds, an easily recognizable and breathtakingly beautiful breed. There are a handful of guards mixed in the party and at the head of it is the ruling Prince of Dorne, Ragnor Fell. Alec has never met him, but with hair as white as snow - so atypical for Dornish people - he can’t be mistaken for anyone else. He is a tall man, with a strong, chiseled jaw and bushy eyebrows. There is a sword strapped to his side that swings slightly as he descends from his horse and he’s wearing a black and gold travelling cloak - they all are, actually. It’s still the middle of summer and it’s actually pretty warm, but Alec supposes that when you’ve lived in the desert for your entire life, even summer weather in the North must seem freezing cold.

Alec bows when his father introduces him, as do Izzy, Max and Jace. He listens to them exchange pleasantries, a small talk after a long journey before negotiations start the next day. His attention is caught by the last lone rider that enters the courtyard late, his horse coming to an abrupt stop when he reaches the rest of his party.

“Ah, Magnus, always with the dramatic entrance.” Prince Fell shakes his head and while his words imply disapproval, neither his tone nor his expression suggest the same. He actually sounds a little bored, like he didn’t expect anything else.

“Apologies, Ragnor.” The familiarity that the man shows by calling the Prince by his first name proves that he’s not a servant. Alec knows that Ragnor Fell has a brother, but not what he looks like. The newcomer is shorter than his Prince and his skin is a bit darker. While Prince Fell’s hair is pure white, this man’s hair is coal-black with something colorful flashing here and there. A dye, perhaps? “I had to make sure the rest of our men settled in the camp and there was a small issue with watch roster. Took me longer than I suspected to sort it out.”

“Very well,” Prince Fell sighs, eyes rolling a bit before he turns back to the Lightwoods. “May I introduce my brother, Magnus Bane, Prince of Dorne.”

The man, Magnus, gives them a slightly exaggerated bow, all flourish and theatrics. Alec can see his father’s brow twitching with disapproval, though his tell can only be noticed by his family and those who are familiar with him.

Then Magnus straightens up, looks right at Alec and smiles, a dazzling, radiant sort of smile that makes Alec’s heart skip a beat. His brown eyes are accented with thick dark lines (and a shimmering powder of sorts) and they shine with amusement.

Oh.

Oh, seven bloody hells.

Alec is not one prone to cursing, but at that moment, when he sees _that_ brilliant smile aimed just at him, he knows that he’s _fucked_.

 

* * *

 

The delegation from Dorne ends up staying for some time for the trade negotiations. In the eve of their arrival, there is a feast. It’s an informal affair, meant to bring two different countries together and make the later transactions easier for everyone involved. There is wine and beer flowing freely, lowering inhibitions and steadily increasing the overall cheerfulness and feelings of kinship. The cooks outdid themselves and the long tables in the main hall are weighed down with fresh bread and piping-hot meats. There’s roasted boar, quails drowned in butter and salmon in crushed almond crust. There are pork and bacon pies, stewed rabbits and lamb with onions and beetroot. A separate table holds pears baked in wine, lemon cakes, apple pies and even Alec’s favorite blueberry tarts. There’s so much food that Alec wonders if they will even be able to eat everything. Probably not. The dogs in the kennels are going to be very happy with the leftovers later on.

Alec sits on his father’s right and Prince Fell is on Robert’s left. Magnus is sitting next to his brother and Alec tries very, _very_ hard not to look at him, but it’s impossible. Every time his gaze goes to the Dornish prince, he finds Magnus staring right back at him, like he’s some kind of beacon that his eyes travel to on their own. When their eyes meet Magnus smiles at him, a tiny smirk that means he’s well aware of how much Alec has been watching him, and how much he’s been trying _not to_. Alec finds himself blushing and lowering his head more than once, probably more than is expected from a grown man.

When Alec gets caught staring once more, Magnus raises his wine cup in a silent toast before Alec can look away. Alec doesn’t want to offend the man, so he salutes with his own cup and Magnus’ eyes are twinkling with humor.

Strangely, Alec finds himself smiling right back.

 

* * *

 

The trade talks start the next day after noon, when everyone has had an ample amount of time to rest after the feast and nurse their hangovers. Robert didn’t want him in the hall during negotiations and Magnus has been banned by his brother as well, after claiming that Magnus brings “too much nervous energy” into every trade agreement he’s privy to.

This is how Alec finds himself walking through the forest belonging to the Lightwoods, Magnus right next to him. Alec’s been roped into playing guide to the younger Prince and it’s not something he minds doing, really, if only he didn’t act like a stuttering fool every time he has to make conversation with him.

But for now Magnus is silent, clearly taken aback by the wonder of the forest. It’s pretty warm, the summer weather making Alec forego cloaks and heavy furs, leaving him in soft leathers and thin wool, both in his preferred black and dark brown. It’s such a contrast to Magnus’ own attire, bright and rich brocade and velvet in red and yellow. The Prince is wearing a coat for warmth, not accustomed  to the Northern climate, and it’s the one in the gold and black colors of his house.

“So these are the famous Morghot trees?” Magnus asks, one hand reaching out to run cautious fingers over the pure white bark, somewhat surprised at the smooth and even surface. He looks a little awed and Alec can’t fault him for his reaction. Their common name - _death trees_ \- may not be very flattering, but they are absolutely breathtaking. Somewhat similar to Weirwood, Morghot trees are tall and wide with age, with white wood and bark, and leaves in such a dark shade of green that from a distance they appear black. The wood is valued not only for its unique color but also for its extreme durability and hardness, making it a precious commodity, highly sought-after by weapons smiths and artisans.

The Lightwoods are the only family in the Seven Kingdoms with access to Morghot trees and Prince Fell is negotiating a large shipment of wood, to be paid purely in coin.

“We’re going to start another harvest soon,” Alec says in lieu of answering. Talking about their family trade is easy - it’s something he knows like the back of his hand. “We have to be careful not to cut out too much of the forest, otherwise it will not regrow and twenty, thirty years from now the Lightwoods will be left with nothing.”

“Thinking about future generations already?” Magnus laughs as he turns to look at Alec, his fingers finally slipping off the smooth bark. “You aren’t even of age yet. Not for another week, at least.”

Alec only sighs.

“I am betrothed to Lydia of house Branwell. We are to marry in the fall.”

“You don’t sound very excited about that.” Magnus’ smirk drops as he starts walking again, his pace slow enough that Alec has no trouble falling into step with him.

“I’ve known Lydia almost my entire life.” Alec shrugs a little. “She’s a good friend and I’m sure our marriage will be a solid partnership we can both build upon.”

Magnus winces and Alec can’t help but to make a face at his reaction.

“What?”

“A ‘solid partnership’?” Magnus asks, one elegant eyebrow raising up in disbelief. “I’m sorry but that sounds like the exact opposite of what marriage should be.”

Alec bristles a little at that.

“I’m lucky that I actually know my future bride and consider her a friend,” he counters. “You’re from a noble family yourself. Surely you understand how political marriage works.”

“Actually, I don’t.” It’s Magnus’ turn to shrug. “Ragnor is not married and neither am I. Dornishmen marry for love more often than not. My brother refuses to arrange a marriage for me if I have no feelings for my possible spouse. Not that I have a lot of offers to begin with.”

“Why not?” Alec doesn’t understand. One would think that a Prince who is second to the throne of Dorne would be highly sought-after, as far as marriage prospects go.

“That would probably be because I’m a bastard.”

Oh.

That’s why.

“Ragnor is only my half-brother and we share the same father,” Magnus continues, not bothered by the way Alec’s step falters for a second. “In Dorne bastards aren’t shunned or looked down upon like what happens in other kingdoms. My father legitimized me as his son many years ago, long before his passing.”

“And yet you have not taken your family name?”

“My dear Alexander,” Magnus laughs a little and the sound of his full name makes a shiver run down Alec’s back, for reasons that Alec prefers not to explore, “just because I’m a part of the royal family doesn’t mean I’m not a bastard. I refuse to pretend to be something that I’m not.”

Alec thinks about all those times in the past when he had to go against his will and his nature. He thinks about always bending down to his father’s will, to his mother’s wishes, about being the perfect son and a perfect future Lord. He remembers every single time he caught himself looking at boys in the same manner others looked at girls and he recalls the deep, suffocating fear of his parents finding out.

Magnus might be willing to be his true self and not care what others think of him. Alec wishes he could have the same kind of confidence and bravery but sadly, he does not.

 

* * *

 

That chat in the forest opens up a floodgate of similar exchanges and debates and very quickly Alec starts to view Magnus as a friend. Despite their age difference (Magnus is clearly older than him but Alec still doesn’t know the exact number of years between them) he finds the Dornish Prince to be a very good listener and an even better conversationalist. His father gives Alec the task of entertaining Prince Bane while his brother is occupied with trade talk.

It’s not exactly a hardship. Alec finds himself drawn to their guest whenever his duties as a future Lord don’t occupy his time. They spend hours riding out for hunts, Alec showing Magnus the Lightwood lands in all their rich, green glory. Alec is a very talented archer - a fact that Magnus doesn’t hesitate to point out and make the younger man flush with quiet pride. Between the two of them they manage to stock the kitchens with small game for the rest of the week. One day they even bring back a deer that ends up roasted whole for the evening meal.

They train together with Jace and Isabelle and their closest guards. Alec thought that Magnus might be surprised to see a woman fighting, but Magnus just laughs and says that women from Dorne are all like deadly vipers. Izzy’s involvement in the training doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

While Magnus is more than proficient with a sword, his weapon of choice is a pair of unusually shaped blades with horizontal handles and elongated grips. Magnus calls them katar daggers and they are unlike anything that Alec has ever seen. The fighting style looks less like combat and more like a dance, full of swift movements and acrobatics.

Alec doesn’t even know how anyone can fight back against that kind of speed and agility if they are wearing armor and wielding heavy swords. In that aspect the Dornish weapons (and the people who use them) are truly deadly. And Magnus is no exception.

 

* * *

 

The trade agreement is reached, eventually, with terms that both sides are content with. It’s still a little less than a week till Alec’s name day and Prince Ragnor doesn’t have time to remain in Idris any longer, but Magnus offers to stay behind until after the celebration. Alec feels stupidly happy about that.

Alec tells himself that he’s getting attached too quickly. He doesn’t even know the man, not really, despite the hours spent talking and enjoying each other’s company. Magnus is older than him and he’s a _Prince_. He’s going to forget about one attention-starved, barely-of-age boy as soon as he goes back to Sunspear. Alec knows that he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t seek him out, and most definitely shouldn’t focus his gaze on Magnus’ lips every time the older man speaks.

He knows that this... attraction of his is only temporary. Magnus will go back to his kingdom and Alec will marry Lydia in the fall.

But for the time being, whenever Magnus looks at him and grants him one of his brilliant smiles, Alec allows himself to smile back.

 

* * *

 

His name day celebration is a loud affair. In the evening the tables in the great hall are creaking under the weight of food and alcohol. Alec isn’t one for loud parties but even he finds himself laughing and drinking sweet red wine, and observing Jace’s _pathetic_ attempts at seducing a serving girl. Jace is so drunk that he barely can articulate words and it really shouldn’t be that funny, but for some reason it is.

When everyone is drunk and celebrating in the fullest, Magnus taps Alec’s arm to get his attention and nods his head towards the exit. Intrigued, Alec follows Magnus out of the great hall, through the corridors and eventually outside, where the night air is crisp and fresh. The sounds of music and cheering and general ruckus raised by the guests slowly fades as they walk. Alec’s head is buzzing gently with wine, but only enough to make him a little less tense.

Curiously enough, Magnus leads him towards the stables on the far end of the courtyard. The stable hands are absent, probably getting drunk in the kitchens on their Lord’s wine. It’s very quiet inside, only the shuffling of the horses and the occasional whinny breaking the silence. Magnus takes him towards the very last stall, where a lone lamp is the only source of light.

Alec stops in his tracks when they reach their target because inside the stall is a Dornish sand steed. Tall and lightly muscled, with a lean neck and narrow head, its eyes looking at Alec curiously. The horse is black as night, its coat shining and smooth and its mane is fiery red. It looks like a coal set aflame and it is the most beautiful mount Alec has ever seen in his life.

“His name is Raziel.” Magnus enters the stall and Alec follows. The Prince runs a gentle hand over the steed’s nose. “He’s a gelding, already broken in and able to run for a day and night before he tires.” Magnus turns his head back towards Alec. “And he’s yours.”

“What?” Alec whispers, as if afraid that speaking out loud might break whatever spell he was put under, since he’s half-convinced he’s dreaming.

“A gift, for your coming of age,” Magnus explains patiently.

“Magnus, I can’t take him.” Alec makes a move like he wants to reach and touch the animal but he stops himself before he can do it. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus protests. “He comes from my own stables. His mother is one of my favorite mares and I was hoping he would find a good home with you. He’s not a war horse, as you well know, his breed is not meant to carry armored riders. But he is perfect for fast, long distance travels and racing. No other horse outside of Dorne will be able to outrun him.”

“I...” Alec stammers, unable to find right words for a moment. He finally forces himself to reach up and touch, running his hand slowly over the gelding’s head, smiling a little as he pushes into his touch. “He’s amazing. Thank you.”

They spend a little more time with the horse, Magnus telling Alec about Raziel’s training, temperament and the little quirks of his character before they exit the stall. They are almost out of the stables when Alec places a gentle hand on Magnus’ shoulder and stops him.

Magnus is going to leave in the morning as he was only able to stay until Alec’s name day celebration. Alec has been dreading that moment for days and now that it’s almost there, he has no idea what to say.

“Thank you,” he says, hoping that his voice doesn’t break under the weight of emotion. He wants to thank Magnus for being here, for becoming his friend, for making him laugh and enjoy himself for the first time in many months - maybe ever since his mother’s death. He doesn’t know how to put everything in words, so he settles on the next best thing. “For... for everything.”

Magnus seems to understand it though, since his eyes are warm and full of compassion and kindness. He raises his hand to Alec’s cheek and cups it gently.

“You’re very much welcome, Alexander,” Magnus says. “It’s certainly no hardship to make you smile. And if you ever find yourself in need of assistance, remember that Dorne will welcome you with open arms.”

It sounds like a declaration of alliance, an informal one, but still. It makes Alec’s heart melt a little, this inexplicable trust that they managed to build in such short time. Alec covers Magnus’ hand with his own, nuzzling a little into his palm, making Magnus inhale sharply.

Alec’s just about to ask what’s wrong when Magnus is stepping into his personal space, forcing Alec to take a step back until he hits the wall of the stable. Magnus is shorter than Alec but somehow seems to tower over him, confidence and purpose evident in every move of his body. He traps Alec without a single word of protest from the boy, his hands on the wall on the both sides of Alec’s head.

“I am leaving tomorrow,” Magnus whispers, his eyes flicking briefly to Alec’s slightly parted mouth and Alec finds himself unable to breathe. “And before I go, I would very much like to kiss you.”

Alec somehow knew that they would reach this point, eventually. All the hours spent together, all the talking and teasing and learning about each other. All the lingering touches, the long glances, the tension building up ever since they met in the courtyard. All of those things, leading them right here, to the darkness of the stables and an intimate moment shared in the dark.

Alec knows he should say no. Magnus is obviously giving him a choice, waiting for his reaction. Alec should say no because he’s betrothed to Lydia and because he has spent so many years trying to hide who he is just to please his father. Most of all, he should say no because Magnus is leaving the next day and it’s going to break his heart - having a taste of what he truly wants and will never have.

Despite all of this, Alec moves his hands so that they rest on Magnus’ waist and he nods, leaning down and closing his eyes once Magnus tilts his head up and claims his lips.

It’s his first kiss and it’s a little clumsy and a lot inexperienced and it’s still amazing. Magnus coaxes him into it, gentle and careful at first and then more passionate as time passes, until they have to separate for air, both flushed and panting.

Magnus looks at him like he’s something unique and precious. Alec knows he’s going to leave in the morning and he still can’t help but to think he wants to keep Magnus with him for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

That doesn’t happen, of course, because real life is not a story told when you’re a child and it doesn’t always have happy endings. The rules are different. Good people don’t always triumph over villains, kingdoms don’t have to saved by brave knights and princesses don’t always marry valiant princes.

And most definitely, princes don’t marry other princes, much less sons of minor lords that will never even measure up to them.

But then, the North goes to war.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The North goes to war.

Robert had known for a long time that it was inevitable, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. But Valentine is a greedy, insane king and he demanded more from the North that its inhabitants were able to give. Food and resources and money - Valentine didn’t  care if he left the region in ruins, as long as he’s safe and sound in the Red Keep when the winter comes.

The Warden of the North decided to fight back and all his bannermen were called to arms and marched towards King’s Landing. Robert’s fighting days were long over, ever since his hunting accident a couple years back, where a boar tore his leg open from knee to hip. Robert survived, but swordsmanship and riding long distances were out of the question, the agony from the old wound making both unbearable. He traded armor for leathers and a sword for a cane.

In his stead, Alec took up the mantle of a Lord commanding the Lightwood forces. Him, Jace and Isabelle are an unbeatable trio, capable of leading their men into victory even in dire circumstances. Their identical armors are crafted with black steel, with a silhouettes of enormous wings on their backs, made with white gold. The symbols are fashioned after tales of old religion, where humans with wings were chosen by the spirits to bring death and vengeance upon the undeserving.

The Lightwood army is small, made mostly of guards and men who patrol the borders and the Morghot forest - all in all, they have around one thousand men. What they lack in quantity they more than make up in quality of their warriors. Almost half of Lightwood soldiers received special training in Alicante, the ancestral home of the Branwells. Their men are strong, fast and light on their feet. They favor attacking at night, often from an ambush, under the cover of darkness. These particular skills earned them a name from the Northern small folk, who call them shadowhunters.

Once Alec and Lydia marry, the two armies will merge - and that could cause concern among other noble houses, since one shadowhunter is worth ten normal soldiers.

 

* * *

 

The night before Alec leaves Idris for the battlefields, Max sneaks into his room and climbs into Alec’s bed.

He is getting too big for this, Alec knows, but he’s never going to tell anyone. Max is still his little brother - probably always will be, even when he comes of age one day - and he will not begrudge him comfort that he finds in Alec’s presence. Max clings to him, a little too tightly, small tremors rocking his lithe frame as he keeps himself from crying.

“Promise me you will come back,” Max whispers, pressing himself a little harder against Alec’s side, like he can merge their bodies and prevent Alec from leaving him behind. “And Izzy and Jace too. All three of you.”

Alec doesn’t know how to answer that, so for a longest moment he says nothing. Then, eventually, he wraps his arm around Max’s shoulders and hugs him, so hard he thinks he might squeeze all the air out of his lungs.

“I can’t,” Alec admits. No matter how much it will pain them both, he doesn’t want to lie to his little brother. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in battle. I might get hurt. Izzy and Jace might be wounded. But I know I can promise you this - we are going to do _whatever_ it takes to stay alive and to make it back to you.”

Max is silent for a moment and Alec wonders if he has fallen asleep.

“I still don’t want you to go,” he finally mutters into Alec’s shirt. His words are quiet and sullen but his body relaxes a bit and he molds himself against  Alec’s side.

“I know, Max,” Alec whispers, closing his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The first couple of battles under the command of the Warden are a huge success. The men start calling him The King in the North, first behind his back and then openly. The name sticks and Alec thinks he would be happy to follow him, this Young Wolf.

The fighting is grueling and hard and it makes his blood sing. He was made for this, for the heat of the combat, for going against the odds and winning. Him, Izzy and Jace emerge victorious from every battle, bloodied and tired but triumphant nevertheless. If anyone had anything bad to say about a woman fighting among men, they shut up the first time Izzy is seen decapitating a Morgenstern soldier with one clean swipe of her sword.

Alec and Jace fight side by side, like they were always meant to be, perfectly tuned to each other’s movements. Jace is there to cover for him when he leaves his left side open to a deadly blow and Alec runs his sword through an enemy who almost sneaks up on Jace from behind. The two brothers fight like one and the pile of bodies underneath their feet only gets bigger with every battle.

It’s not the first time Alec has commanded his father’s forces, but he’s never done it on such a grand scale. He earns the respect not only of his men, but also of other Lords, who are surprised by his skill and tactical mind, especially when they learn that he’s so young.

Days turn to weeks and then to months. They march on, unstopped and undefeated. During their evening meals Alec, Jace and Izzy join the other Northerners in toasting to the Young Wolf and for his soon-to-be victory.

 

* * *

 

And then they are betrayed at the Twins. The King in the North is no more.

 

* * *

 

Alec can tell that he’s dying.

He’s laying on his side, the muddy earth embracing him as he fights against wave after wave of pain. His blood is pooling underneath him, soaking into the muck, watering the land that belongs to the traitors who sold out the North to Valentine.

He fades in and out of consciousness. The sounds of the ambush are distant, like a background noise that he can ignore. There are shouts, panicked yelling, screams of pain. The horses are screaming too, adding to the ear-splitting crescendo of death.

Alec can’t hear it anymore, though. He can barely hear anything, barely clinging to the realm of the living by sheer force of his will. All he can focus on is the tattered banner on the ground next to him, soiled and stepped on, mixing with mud and blood. It’s one of his. He recognizes the Lightwood house crest - solid black background and a white, leafless tree.

Alec reaches out for it, trying to connect one last time to his family in any way he can, but his strength falters before he can move and then his mind descends into darkness.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t die, but it’s a near thing.

Alec wakes up much, much later, in a bed smelling of old straw and dust. It’s nighttime, he can see as much from the shadows in the room and a single candle used to banish the total darkness.

“Wh--” He wants to say something but his throat is parched and he can’t get even one word out. Jace and Izzy are at his side as soon as they notice that he’s awake and the relief in their eyes is overwhelming.

Alec still can’t speak, his throat sore and swollen despite the water that Jace shares with him, but his brother fills him in. He tells him about the ambush, about the betrayal, how the Young Wolf was murdered and his body desecrated. The Warden is dead and so is his army and the North fell. All of the Warden’s bannermen fell with him.

Jace tells Alec how him and Izzy managed to stay alive - albeit barely and with an insane amount of luck - to return to the Twins after the fighting was over and look for him. They were separated at the start, when Alec rushed to the castle to stand by his King’s side. He never made it there, having been stabbed in the back before he reached the gates. It was probably what saved his life in the end, since nobody in the castle survived.

His wound was serious enough that it kept him under for a week. They were afraid of it festering, but Izzy managed to get her hands on some of the herbs that maesters used to stop the infections. Alec was never more grateful for the fact that she is the smart one in their trio.

It takes another five days before Alec is well enough to ride. The Lightwoods are hunted now, since they were seen fleeing the Twins and they know that Valentine won’t let them be. They leave their armors behind in that abandoned hut they had occupied during Alec’s recovery, as they are easily recognizable and they don’t want to risk being spotted from afar. They switch instead to leathers and wool stolen from the corpses.

The horses aren’t theirs either, but Alec is so beyond caring at that point that he doesn’t ask where his siblings got them.

 

* * *

 

They are half a day’s ride from Idris when Meliorn intercepts them.

He is the stable master from Idris, a trusted man and Izzy’s on-and-off romance interest. Meliorn is riding along the main road when he sees them and stops his horse immediately, an expression of shock on his face.

“My lord,” Meliorn finally manages to say, “you can’t be here.”

“What?” Izzy frowns, riding a little closer towards their old servant but he just shakes his head.

“You can’t be seen on the main road.” Meliorn looks around them but for the moment the trail is abandoned. “Follow me, quick. I’ll explain when we’re safe.”

They don’t really have a choice and Alec shares a long look with Jace, his hand travelling to the hilt of his sword. They trust Meliorn, but then again, they trusted others at the Twins too and look where that got them.

Jace only nods, no words necessary between them.

Alec recognizes the home they get to as Meliorn’s, having passed by it with his father a couple times in the past. The older man jumps from his horse and leads them to the barn, ushering them inside with quick gestures.

And then Alec gets another surprise.

“Raziel,” He breathes out in a mixture of shock and happiness, crossing the distance between the door and a stall, where his favorite horse is. The gelding bends his head and breathes a soft puff of air against his hand when Alec reaches out towards him. “Oh, how I missed you.”

“Meliorn,” Jace interrupts Alec’s reunion after just a brief moment, “why is Raziel here?”

That question is enough to turn Alec’s attention back to their stable master.

“What happened to Irdis?” He asks.

He already knows it can’t be good. Meliorn’s reaction on the road is enough of a sign, as is the fact that he addressed Alec as his lord. But some little part of him hopes that he is mistaken.

“Idris no longer belongs to the Lightwoods.” Meliorn shakes his head and the expression of sympathy on his face makes Alec’s breath catch. “Sebastian Morgenstern rules the lands now.”

“Seven bloody hells,” Jace curses.

Alec feels a cold, cold dread spreading through his body, through his soul as he thinks about what that means for this family.

“He came about a week ago with a small army,” Meliorn continues. “To take over Idris, since your family was declared traitors to the crown for taking part in an uprising against the king.”

“If there was a siege, Idris should be able to withstand it for _weeks_ ,” Izzy protests. “What happened?”

Meliorn is silent for a moment, searching for words that do not come.

And Alec suddenly realizes what must have happened.

“Who betrayed us?” Alec asks quietly, his voice tired and resigned.

“It was Hodge,” Meliorn finally admits. “He opened the gates during the night in exchange for immunity from Valentines’ wrath.”

“No.” Jace breathes out, shaking his head. Alec’s heart aches when he sees his brother fighting back tears. Out of all of them, Jace was closest to their master-at-arms, having spent countless hours training with the man who was both his teacher and friend.

But right now there were more important things than Hodge.

“Meliorn.... our father is dead, isn’t he?” Izzy asks, though she already knows the answer.

The stable master nods, his mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line.

“Sebastian executed him in front of the entire court, by Valentines’ orders. Since he was the Lord, he was killed in your stead, for your supposed crimes. To make an example out of him, to show people what happens when you go against the crown.”

Ever since the betrayal at the Twins, Alec had expected this. Valentine was cruel and unforgiving and their participation in the rebellion was a perfect excuse for him to take Idris.

“What about Max?” Alec asks, his throat tight with emotion, sending every prayer he has left in him towards the old gods, hoping that they had at least kept his baby brother safe.

“I’m so sorry,” Meliorn whispers and Alec can feel his heart stopping when he hears those words. Izzy covers her mouth with both of her hands, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she looks at him. “Max threw himself at Sebastian in anger after he executed your father. Sebastian struck his head with the pommel of his sword and knocked him out.” The stable master looks away for a moment. “He would not wake. The maester said that the blow broke his skull... he passed away, after three days.”

Alec feels like he’s dying all over again. The sounds fade away until he hears nothing but Izzy’s sobs, his sister clinging to Jace who holds her tightly, his face pale with horror and wet with tears. He stumbles towards the barn door and bats away Meliorn’s hand when the man tries to stop him.

The weather outside is warm and sunny but Alec feels like it’s too bright, too perfect. The world doesn’t care, carrying on as if Alec’s life isn’t falling apart at the seams. He can barely breathe and he places one hand on the barn wall to steady himself as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up and he feels even worse, like he can’t expel this horrible, festering pain.

The pain shifts to despair and then to anger and suddenly Alec is unable to take it anymore. He hits the wooden wall, again and again, fury painting his vision red, until he hears Izzy calling out to him and feels Jace grabbing his shoulders, pulling him away from the side of the barn, begging him to stop.

“Alec!” Izzy’s voice is loud but shaky and she sounds worried. Alec blinks slowly and then looks at her. She’s a mess, tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes are red from crying. She closes the distance between them to gently grab his arm. “You’ve hurt your hand.”

He looks down at his torn and bloody knuckles, the bruising already forming around the scrapes.

Alec doesn’t even feel it.

He finally breaks, then.

“I’m going to kill them,” Alec promises through the heavy, gut-wrenching sobs that take over him when he thinks about Max dying before he even had a chance to truly live. His body gives out and he collapses to his knees in the dirt, Jace going down with him. He can feel his brother’s arms around him, holding him from behind as he lets out all his grief and anger. “Everyone who hurt our family. Anyone who betrayed us. Every single one of them.”

Izzy kneels down next to them, putting her arms around both of her brothers and hugging them as hard as she can.

“Alec, we’re alone,” she says to him gently, her voice quiet but strong, an undertone of steel hiding behind her words. In that moment she reminds Alec of their mother, who was an unstoppable force, always getting what she wanted. “First, we need to find allies."

“And then,” Jace, who has been silent ever since Meliorn told them about Max, finally speaks up, his voice laced with pure venom, “we are going to kill them all.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

They run.

Alec has Raziel back. Apparently, the mount escaped the castle during the chaos of Sebastian taking over and Meliorn tracked it through the Morghot forest. But instead of taking it back, the stable master took him away and hid him, hoping against hope that Alec would return one day.

“I couldn’t let Sebastian take one more thing away from you,” Meliorn says. Alec had never liked _nor_ disliked the man - he had been Izzy’s admirer for years and Alec always had a protective streak - but he promises himself that once he takes Idris back, Meliorn will always have a place with the Lightwoods.

There are no goodbyes, no regrets about leaving Idris behind. The castle used to be theirs, a safe heaven, but Sebastian is there now. As long as that poor excuse of a human being sits in his father’s halls, Alec refuses to call it his home.

But he _will_ take it back, even if it’s the last thing that he does.

 

* * *

 

“We need to split up.”

Izzy’s voice is like a slap, a physical strike that makes him flinch. Alec looks at her sharply over the crackling flames of their campfire and shakes his head.

“Absolutely not,” he protests, poking the embers with a stick, making sparks fly up high into the night sky.

The suggestion makes his skin crawl. After everything that’s happened, he can’t bear the thought of losing them too.

“Alec...”

“I said no.”

“Alec, she’s right,” Jace says and Alec winces. “Morgenstern’s people are looking for three riders.”

“Then we stay off the roads,” Alec counters, like it’s not something they have been doing for days now. They don’t even have a clear direction yet. Just putting distance between them and Idris is enough for the time being.

Izzy sighs and stands up. She circles the fire until she’s next to Alec and then promptly sits down next to him.

“Splitting up is the best choice for us right now and you know it.” Izzy wraps an arm around his shoulders and tries to pull him in for a hug but he refuses to move. Alec won’t even look at her, staring into the flames instead. She can see the way he purses his lips, an angry tick he could never overcome. “They are looking for _you._ Me and Jace… we’re just additional prizes, but what they truly want is you. The Lord of Idris.”

Alec shakes his head, “You forget, that if they catch you, then the king can marry you off to whomever he wants - maybe even to Sebastian. They will force you to have children and then they will use them to put a claim on Idris. Even if I’m not dead by that time.” Alec finally looks at her. “How is _that_ a better option?”

“Because as long as you’re alive, that claim will have no meaning,” Izzy answers. “You need to get away, no matter what the cost is.”

“So I should run like a coward and leave you behind. So that it’s easier for them to capture you. To rape you every night until you are pregnant with Sebastian’s sons,” Alec growls, “Don’t you _dare_ to say that it doesn’t matter. It matters to me.”

“They will not catch me,” She says firmly. “I will die before I let them have me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel _better_?!”

“You need to go to Dorne,” Jace interrupts what was surely about to escalate into a full-blown fight. “Magnus made you an offer of an alliance, didn’t he?”

Alec refuses to blush at the memory, even if they won’t see it in the darkness. He told his siblings about Magnus’ promise, but not about the kiss.

_That_ was just his to have and cherish.

“I don’t even know if it’s legitimate or not.” Alec shakes his head. “It wasn’t Ragnor who said it and it’s _his_ word that counts.”

“We don’t really have a choice, you have to try,” Jace says. “And we are only slowing you down. You have Raziel, he can keep on running long after our horses are exhausted. You will get to Dorne twice as fast without us dragging you behind.”

“I don’t--”

“I will go to Castle Dumort.” Izzy stops him before he can protest. “House Santiago didn’t take part in the war. If nothing else, they hate Valentine as much as we do. Enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.”

Izzy can see the way Alec’s jaw is working and the tension makes his body go stiff in her half-embrace. He turns his head towards Jace.

“You two have this figured out already, don’t you?” he asks. “How long have you been plotting behind my back?”

“Only for the last day or so, since you’ve been an unreasonable ass.” Jace snorts, ducking the twig that Izzy throws at him. “I will go with Izzy to make sure she gets to Dumort safely.”

“I don’t need your protection,” Izzy sneers. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I’m aware. I know what you can do. It’s mostly to make Alec worry a little less.”

That seems to pacify her a little.

“And then?” Alec raises an eyebrow at his brother. “Where will you go?”

“To Essos.”

Alec has to admit, he didn’t expect _that_.

“What in the seven hells are you planning to find across the Narrow Sea?”

Jace is silent for a moment, first looking at the fire and then, eventually, back at Alec. He looks serious all of a sudden, all traces of his previous humor gone.

“Valentine’s daughter.”

 

* * *

 

They go their separate ways the next day.

After splitting up the small amount of coin they have on them, Alec holds his siblings tight in his arms. He doesn’t want to think that this might be the last time he feels Izzy’s breath on his neck as she clings to him, or that he will not feel the warmth of Jace’s arms around him ever again.

He’s already lost two people that he loved and he refuses to lose more.

After they part, it takes Alec another three weeks before he reaches the Dornish Marches. The entire time he keeps off the Kingsroad, choosing lesser known paths instead and often going through the forests - anything to keep him out of sight of the Morgenstern loyalists.

He passes the Twins and the sight of it makes a shiver run down his back. Alec keeps his distance from the castle, but even from this far off he still comes across corpses. On one of them, he finds a bow and a quiver of arrows. The weapon is crude and of poor quality, but Alec can work with it. He realizes that the dead soldiers were probably deserters, those who tried to run away when the massacre started. He can’t really fault them for wanting to survive, but at the same time he can’t help but wonder: Would things be different if they had had more men? Would their armies still be alive?

When he sets up camp he doesn’t dare make fire for fear of alerting someone to his location. Before he falls asleep, he sends a quick prayer to the old gods for the Young Wolf and all of those who fought and fell with him.

Alec’s luck runs out near Harrenhal. He is spotted by a group of Morgenstern’s soldiers and they set out to chase him down. It takes two hours to lose them and another four before Alec dares to risk a break. The entire time Raziel keeps up the same speed, never slowing down, never stopping for any reason. Alec can’t help but be amazed by Raziel’s stamina and endurance. He always knew that sand steeds were made for running and long distance travel, but knowing and experiencing it are two different things.

Alec is well aware that he probably owes his life to Magnus, for his gift.

 

* * *

 

The journey through Dorne is... challenging, to say the least.

Alec has no choice but to follow the Kingsroad from Stormlands to the Boneway passage, which is the only way he can get through the Red Mountains. Before going through, in the vicinity of Blackheaven, he pays a couple of coins for the appropriate clothing and changes from worn down leathers into light cloth. He also gets a head wrap he can use to hide his face, and help him deal with the sun. His luck holds and he gets through without incident. Alec thinks he would be more suspicious if he wasn’t riding a sand steed. As it is, no one really bothers him, and Alec is grateful for small mercies.

The Kingsroad ends in Yronwood, where Alec trades almost all of his remaining money for supplies. He has a sufficient amount of smoked meat - he used the bow to hunt for small game before crossing the borders.

It takes him a week to get from Yronwood to the Tor, only because he doesn’t want to push Raziel to his limits in the scorching heat. The temperatures are unbearable - Alec has no idea how people in Dorne can get anything done. And he’s not even in the worst part of the country, because he gets enough breeze from the sea to keep the heat down. When it’s possible, he spends a couple of the mid-day hours in shade, be that half-withered trees or rock outcroppings. He doesn’t want to get heatstroke and he doesn’t want to risk exhausting Raziel, who doesn’t seem to mind the sun that much, but still. Alec is not going to take any chances.

He gets to the Tor without any real problems and then he’s off to Godsgrace. He is still half-afraid he’s going to get lost and travel in the wrong direction. Thankfully, he spots the Greenblood river after two days of travel and from there, he’s almost done. All that’s left is following the river and getting to Sunspear at the end of it.

That is easier said than done, though. Between the estuary of Greenblood and the Sunspear, he needs to go through a vicious strip of desert. Having previously used up all of his supplies, by the time  he finally reaches the city, he’s on the brink of exhaustion, hungry and thirsty beyond all imagination.

There is a fundamental flaw in his plan, one he keeps pushing away until he has no choice but to face it. Alec has no idea how to contact Magnus. He’s pretty sure that commoners are not allowed anywhere near the Fell family and he can’t exactly announce himself, in case he’s not welcome, or the court has Morgenstern spies.

In the end, he settles for finding the nearest temple of the Seven, where he uses his last coin to send a raven to the castle. He writes a short message, ' _Raziel misses you_ ', followed by the name of a street he passed, the one with all kinds of nooks and crannies he could hide in, just in case. It’s a long shot, Alec is perfectly aware of that. There is no guarantee that the message will even get to Magnus, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Alec waits in the alley the next day. He hides in the shade, in a vantage point where he has a perfect view of the rest of the street, Raziel’s reins attached to a wooden fence. He sits there for hours, looking for any sign that Magnus received his note and after half a day passes without any luck, he grows weary. He doesn’t even remember the last time he ate or drank something and he knows he should be worried about that gap in memory, but somehow, he is not. Mostly he’s just tired. Hunger is a sensation he stopped being able to feel days ago and he doesn’t really miss it.

Soon he’s only aware of the sound of his own breathing, weak and shallow. The booming rush of blood and pulse of his own heart in his ears. His shaking hands as he tries to reach for Raziel and untangle the reins and set the poor horse free, before he loses the fight to stay conscious.

He fails, just as he has failed at so many other things, and the steed’s soft whinny is the last sound he hears before everything fades to black.

 

* * *

 

Alec is sick and tired of losing consciousness and waking up in unfamiliar places.

He is also a little surprised that he wakes up at all.

Alec thought that he already used up whatever good fortune he had.

The first thing he becomes aware of, even before opening his eyes, is that he’s engulfed in softness of a featherbed and what feels suspiciously like silk. His hearing comes back after that and it’s a somewhat bizarre sound to hear in the middle of a desert capitol, but he can swear he hears a rush of water.

Alec opens his eyes, slowly, not sure what to expect and sure enough, the canopy of a bed is not what he thought he would see.

It’s a middle of the day, or at least Alec assumes so, judging by the rays of light coming through the high windows. He’s lying in an enormous bed made of dark wood, with silk sheets and pillows.

Alec gets up, slowly, feeling a little off-balance. He is naked, except for pants made from dark brocade. The room is richly furnished and decorated and Alec realizes that he must have somehow made it to the palace. There is a door open a few feet away, leading to what looks like a balcony and Alec takes a couple of shaky steps towards it. But then he stops, and after a moment of consideration he turns around and grabs one of the sheets, wrapping it around his chest and shoulders like a robe. The door leads out to a large, shaded patio.

And there he sees Magnus.

He is sitting in a lounge chair, a thick book in his lap. He hasn’t changed at all since Alec saw him last. He still looks as astonishing as he did when he turned Alec’s world upside-down in Idris. And after so long, after so many days and nights living only on the hope that he might find shelter with him... Alec’s finally here. _He made it._

Alec shuffles towards him, every step feeling like an indescribable effort, until he can sit down in a chair next to Magnus.

“Good to see you’re finally awake,” Magnus says as he closes his book and looks at Alec, giving him his undivided attention. Magnus’ eyes are twinkling with mirth and something that Alec thinks might be happiness.

“H-how long was I out?” Alec manages to croak out, his throat sore and parched. Magnus makes a small displeased sound and gestures at someone outside of Alec’s field of vision. A servant appears seemingly out of nowhere, placing a tray on the small table between their chairs. There is a pitcher of water and two cups and a plate with an assortment of fruits that should be easy on an empty stomach. Magnus fills the cups when Alec’s hands shake too much for him to do it himself and then hands him both the water and the plate.

“A little under two days,” Magnus finally replies after Alec drains his cup and starts on the fruit. “I was beginning to worry. And what have you done to yourself, darling? You’re all skin and bones.”

Alec casts his eyes downward, feeling his cheeks heat up at the term of endearment. He knows he’s too thin. Even days before he passed out he could feel his ribs standing out far too much underneath his skin. He looks at his hands. His fingers are long and nearly skeletal. His wrists are narrow and sharp and look almost delicate now, the bones in them jutting out.

His body looks (and feels) starved, and Alec knows it.

“It’s actually a long story,” Alec says quietly, looking at the food and he can feel his appetite fading away. Still, he forces himself to eat, knowing that he needs to regain his strength.

“I already know some of it,” Magnus admits and when Alec glances sideways he can see the prince looking at him with sad eyes. “I’m so very sorry about your father and your brother.”

Alec swallows, closing his eyes for a moment and pushing down his grief. There will be time for that later. He will allow himself time to mourn, but not yet.

Alec tells him the rest of the story, about him, Izzy and Jace going their separate ways. He tells him how he ran, and the things he had to do to make sure he survived. By the end of his tale he feels exhausted, his throat sore. He hasn’t properly talked to anyone for weeks.

“Any lesser man wouldn’t have made it as far as you did,” Magnus says after Alec falls silent once more. “And I am glad that you did.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was welcome here or not,” Alec admits. “It’s not like we made any formal alliance, after all.”

“Oh? But in the stories many great unions start with a kiss.” Magnus grins when Alec huffs. He finds it absolutely adorable how Alec’s ears grow red with embarrassment. “I’m glad you are here, Alexander. I hope you will stay, however long you need.”

“There...” Alec starts and hesitates but then shakes his head and gathers his courage to continue, “...there is something I need to ask you first, before I decide if I will stay or not.”

“Oh?” Magnus sounds intrigued and maybe a little surprised. “Do tell.”

“I’ve been thinking about it on the road,” Alec says and then sighs. “It’s pretty much all that I could do. Thinking, that is.” He pauses and then looks at Magnus, his expression carefully blank. “You knew that Valentine was going to attack the North, didn’t you?”

Magnus can’t help but to wince. Out of all the possible questions, he truly didn’t expect this one.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Alec continues. “How you singled me out from the start. How you offered me a sanctuary, even though back then we had no reason to believe I would need one. That you gave me Raziel, the fastest horse possible, to make sure I’d be able to escape.” Alec puts the empty plate back on the table and his hands are shaking still, but not from hunger. Not anymore. “I think about all of this and can’t help to wonder. That if you had told us, maybe things would be different. Maybe Sebastian wouldn’t have cut my father’s head off. Maybe... maybe Max would still be alive.”

His words end on a choked back sob and Magnus is out of his seat as soon as he hears it, perching on the side of Alec’s lounge chair instead. Magnus raises a hand and cups Alec’s jaw.

“Alec... Alexander, no,” Magnus whispers and gently tugs up until Alec has to look at him, his eyes shiny and wet. “I didn’t know. I swear by the old gods and the new, darling, I didn’t know.”

“Then how---”

“I have my spies in King’s Landing, people who are loyal to me,” Magnus explains. “I didn’t know that he planned on attacking the North but there were enough rumors to suspect that something like that would happen eventually. But darling, it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference, in the end. You would still be honor-bound to follow your Warden into battle. The massacre at the Twins would still happen. Valentine still would have used it as an excuse to bring your family to heel. Nothing would change.”

Alec’s eyes search Magnus’ for a moment before he settles, gaze slipping down to his hands folded in his lap, once Magnus releases his hold.

“The only thing I could do,” Magnus continues, “is make sure you knew you could find a safe haven here, in Dorne, and give you the means to reach it as quickly as possible. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t plan any of this before going to Idris. It was all rather spontaneous of me.”

“I don’t understand,” Alec says. “Why me?”

“I didn’t want to go with Ragnor to the trade talks but he thought it might be a good idea for me to take a more active role in ruling Dorne. Even if he _did_ kick me out of the negotiations in the end.” Magnus sighs with exasperation. “I didn’t want to go to the North at all. But then I met a young man, with stunning eyes and an even more brilliant smile. A man who is strong, intelligent and kind and puts the well-being of others before his own needs. Who is trying so hard to be a good son and an even better leader. And who is completely unaware of how extraordinary he is.”

“Magnus--”

“While neither Ragnor nor I have any desire to rule the seven kingdoms, for us it’s clear that the Dornish are very displeased with Valentine’s reign. For years now we’ve been waiting for a good moment to change history. His new thirst for power is a sign that we need to act _now_ , rather than later.” Magnus doesn’t pay attention to the weak protest Alec makes. He reaches out and gently grasps one of Alec’s hands, giving his fingers a light squeeze. “And after I met this man, who is as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside, I thought to myself... this is it. This is someone I could see sitting on the Iron Throne.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is it, the last chapter.
> 
> The wonderful fanart was made by [Sova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sova).

For a moment, Alec can’t do anything but just blink, his mind like a blank page. He keeps staring at Magnus, like he expects the him to say something else, but he remains silent. He only looks at Alec with the same, kind expression in his eyes as before and Alec realizes that he’s not joking.

“You can’t be serious.” Alec tries to pull his hand away but Magnus squeezes his fingers again, not letting him go. “Me, ruling Westeros?”

“I don’t see why not,” Magnus says, tilting his head slightly. Like it’s so easy for him to believe Alec could do it. Like he doesn’t understand Alec’s surprise.

“Because it’s not something that I want.” Alec shakes his head, looking down at their joined hands for a second, before shifting his gaze back to Magnus’ dark eyes. “I don’t want the Iron Throne.”

“Some people would argue that’s exactly the reason why you _should_ sit on it.”

“For now, I just want my life back,” Alec says. “I want Valentine and Sebastian dead. I want my family safe... what’s left of it, anyways.”

“Pity.” Magnus gives a heavy sigh. “You would look quite fetching in a crown. But I guess we can take it one day at the time.”

Alec looks down again. Magnus’ hand is smaller than his but it seems to be covering his own completely. The contrast between their skin tones is starling, one pale, the other golden brown.

A sudden wave of uncertainty washes over him and Alec swallows nervously, not sure how to express his doubts. They are so different, the two of them. They don’t even know each other very well and he doesn’t know if he can trust him.

But what other choice does he have?

“Magnus, I--” He starts, stuttering over his words like a fool, feeling the beginning of an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. “I know that you put a lot of effort into making sure I got here in one piece and that your family risked a lot by giving me sanctuary. I’m sorry, but I can’t be what you want me to be. If you want me to leave, I can go.”

Alec flinches when a hand cups his chin gently and tilts his head back up, until he can look at Magnus again. The Prince's gaze holds a startling amount of fondness and there is an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nonsense,” Magnus protests. “My hospitality is not dependent on whether or not you agree with me and my ideas. You’re free to stay in Dorne for however long you like. If you need something, just say the word and I’ll do my best to grant you your wish.”

“But... why?” Alec asks, his breath catching a little when Magnus runs his thumb over his lower lip.

“There are many ways to answer that question,” Magnus says. “Because we both want Valentine taken down and your support will unite what’s left of the North to help us. Because I met your family and you deserve better than to be hunted down for sport.”

Alec’s eyes flicker down to Magnus’ lips for a second, an involuntary reaction he can’t quite control.

“Because I don’t like seeing you in pain,” Magnus whispers, shifting a bit closer, perfectly aware of the effect he has on the younger man.

Alec leans in and closes the distance between them.

It’s only their second kiss but Alec thinks he could get addicted to it, to the sensation of Magnus’ mouth against his own. It’s tender and unhurried, Magnus’ breath warming his cheek, his hand stroking up Alec’s face until he can tangle his fingers in his hair. Alec closes his eyes when he feels the first tentative touch of Magnus’ tongue against his lips and opens up to him, deepening the kiss.

When it’s over Alec is left gasping, their foreheads pressed together as he clings to the older man’s shoulders just to stop his hands from trembling.

“You are risking everything,” Alec whispers, finally opening his eyes and looking into Magnus’ own. When they are this close, he can see tiny specks of gold in the Prince’s dark irises. “You are going to lead Dorne into war with Valentine. For me.”

“Oh, darling,” Magnus laughs a little and Alec feels his heart beat faster upon hearing the affectionate name. “If there was ever a good reason to start a war, it would be for love.”

 

* * *

  

They don’t really know much about Valentine’s daughter.

Her name is Clarissa - Clary, for short. Jocelyn, Valentine’s wife, fled from her husband when the girl was still young, taking her away and beyond the Narrow Sea. Alec heard reports from the court that Valentine had raged for weeks following their disappearance, hell bent on getting revenge on Jocelyn for stealing his child from him.

The queen managed to vanish into thin air - almost as if by magic - for years, until Valentine’s spies in Pentos finally tracked her down. Jocelyn was dosed with a poison that paralyzed her and eventually caused her heart to stop. It was then that Clary learned about her father.

Alec doesn’t know what happened to Clary after that and Magnus’ contacts in Essos haven’t found anything. Either the girl is dead or in deep hiding. Alec doesn’t have any choice but to trust Jace, hoping that he would find her. Putting another Morgenstern on the Iron Throne isn’t an ideal solution, but she would get more support from noble houses than other possible candidates.

Alec also counts on the fact that she supposedly hates her father as much as Alec does.

For now, Alec doesn’t have much to do. His days are spent on regaining his strength, recovering from the near starvation he subjected himself to during his escape. He lost a lot of weight and muscle during that time. Every activity that requires more than minimal effort leaves him tired and without energy. The palace cooks slowly reintroduce various foods to his diet, starting with mild, nearly bland oatmeal and porridge and soft fruits - things that won’t upset his stomach. Alec surrenders to their treatment willingly since he guesses they have had more experience with feeding people who stumbled half-starved out of the desert wasteland.

He meets with Ragnor, who is more laid-back and mellow than Alec could have guessed. He didn’t have a lot of opportunities to talk to him while he was visiting Idris, but after some time Alec can see the family resemblance between him and Magnus. Thankfully, Ragnor is aware of the plan to take down Valentine and supports it. It takes a huge weight off Alec’s shoulders.

But that still doesn’t make him feel any less unworthy of the faith they put in him and his ability to rally the North to their cause.

 

* * *

  

After a couple of days they move to Water Gardens, the private palace of House Fell, located three leagues to the west of Sunspear. Magnus thinks that it will speed up Alec’s recovery and once they get there, it’s obvious why. The air is different, sharp with the scent of salt, as the palace grounds reach up to Summer Sea. The days are hot and humid but the nights are pleasantly cool with the sea breeze.

The palace itself is a wonder of pale pink and yellow marble. It has high walls and an enormous courtyard that opens to the beach. There are terraces and archways overlooking numerous pools and fountains and everything is so _green_. Alec never thought that he would see so many plants in an unforgiving climate such as Dorne, but there are gardens and smaller atriums that are filled with greenery. Blood orange and lemon trees, tall palm trees, exotic-looking orchids, fiery-red shrubberies that Alec can’t even name, low hedges of shrubs cut into shapes and mazes. The number of different plants is astounding and awe inspiring. Everywhere he looks, there’s something that grabs his attention, be that a colorful mosaic adorning the walls, or high dome ceilings with ornamental designs. The interiors are as rich as the outside, the rooms furnished and generously decorated with valuable woods and precious stones. Alec feels like he stepped into one of the tales he heard as a child, a story of the exotic princes and their palaces made of gold. He feels _almost_ guilty for sleeping in the silk sheets and for wearing expensive fabrics.

Alec spends a lot of time resting. For the first couple of days all he can do is sleep and eat. Magnus is an understanding host, not taking offense when Alec starts nodding off after their shared evening meals.

He slips into a sort of lethargy, his head filled with thoughts of his family. Magnus knows that he’s hurting, that every day without news from his siblings only makes Alec fall deeper and deeper into the black pit of apathy and indifference. He tries to keep Alec’s spirits up but it’s a hard task when Alec barely has energy to stay awake, most of the time.

Things change unexpectedly one day, when Magnus shows up at Alec’s chambers with a rolled-up piece of parchment.

“For you,” Magnus says as he hands Alec the message and the younger man cautiously reaches for it. He’s not sure if he wants to know what it says.

“Thank the gods,” he breathes out a quiet sigh of relief after he reads through the short letter. Magnus’ hand is resting on his shoulder as they sit on Alec’s bed, a silent show of support that Alec appreciates so much. “Izzy made it to Castle Dumort. Lord Santiago gave her shelter and she managed to convince him to take our side, if we go after Valentine.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Magnus smiles at him, an honest, brilliant smile that makes Alec’s own lips quirk up in response.

“Yes.” Alec looks down at the parchment and then his expression falls. “Oh.”

“What is it?”

“She, ah--” Alec sighs. “She says that Lydia’s engagement to me was annulled by the king on the grounds of Lightwoods being traitors to the crown.” He shakes his head. “Her father married her off to John Monteverde as quickly as possible.”

“I’m sorry, Alexander.” Magnus sounds sincere, even though Alec knows that he doesn’t approve of marriages arranged for political reasons. “I don’t have the pleasure of knowing anyone from House Monteverde but I’ve heard they are good, honorable people.”

“They are.” Alec nods. “It’s for the best. Her father probably wanted to avoid having Valentine pressuring them into a marriage of his choosing.” Alec looks at Magnus with a sad smile. “Lydia actually wanted to marry John for years, but joining our houses was more beneficial to our families. The Monteverdes aren’t as well-off as Lightwoods used to be.”

Alec is pretty sure he should be saddened by the news of his intended marrying someone else. But somehow, he can’t be bothered to pretend he’s not a little relieved too.

 

* * *

  

Things start to look up after Alec gets reassurance that at least one of his siblings is safe and sound. His health is improving and soon enough he finally has enough strength to stay awake for more than an hour at a time.

Dorne is as beautiful as it is deadly and Alec falls in love a little with the Water Gardens, spending most of his time outside. The scenery is so different from what he knows, a direct opposite to everything that the North consists of. And yet he can’t help but to start feeling at home here, among the pale, veined marble and red sand and soothing sounds of the Summer Sea.

Whenever he’s not busy with his duties, Magnus spends time with Alec. They talk and share their meals together. Sometimes Ragnor joins them for breakfast or supper, when he has time. Sometimes they are accompanied by Catarina and Tessa - Magnus and Ragnor’s distant cousins who happen to spend time in Sunspear. The foods are rich and delicious, often a little too hot for his liking, but most of the time the cooks go easy on the spices, no doubt by Magnus’ orders. Alec finds himself obsessed with orange cream cakes - a fact that doesn’t escape his host’s notice and Magnus makes sure there are always a couple of them left just for Alec.

Alec is waiting for news from Essos, for any message from his brother. He hates feeling like an observer, taking a passive role and just waiting for others to act first, but he has no other choice. Magnus keeps distracting him from his darker thoughts and most of the time he’s successful. Alec busies himself with learning about the Dornish people and their culture. He starts appreciating their way of living, the passion they pour into every single aspect of their lives.

And if that passion translates to the feeling of Magnus’ lips on his own when they walk the beach in the evening, or the sounds Magnus makes when Alec grips him by the waist to haul their bodies closer... well, that’s only an additional benefit.

 

* * *

 

Valentine sends his assassins to Dorne.

Alec isn’t there when they attack, but he’s alerted to it the minute it happens. The entire palace gets thrown into chaos. The guards are running toward the main courtyard and with his heart beating wildly in his chest, Alec follows. He doesn’t know what’s happening yet - clearly, nothing good - and there is only one thought in his mind as he runs.

_‘Please, let Magnus be alright.’_

He is, as far as Alec can see. He is covered in blood but it’s not his, it belongs to three men lying on the ground. Magnus doesn’t even spare them a glance. He throws away his katars, as bloodied as he is, and falls to his knees next to a fourth body sprawled inelegantly on the ground.

It’s Ragnor.

Alec shakes off his stupor and runs towards them, where other court members are rushing as well. He stumbles down next to Magnus, who is pressing his hands against Ragnor’s throat. Alec can see red bubbling between his fingers, can see Ragnor’s panicked eyes as he drowns in his own blood.

“Hold on,” Magnus whispers, desperation coloring his voice as he tries to stop the flow, his fingers slippery and wet. “Don’t you dare to die.”

Someone is handing them bundle of cloth and Alec grabs it, pressing it to Ragnor’s throat, Magnus’ hands joining on top of his to keep up the pressure. Ragnor’s eyes are drifting shut and his trashing limbs slow down. Alec can hear the wounded noise that Magnus makes when he sees his brother’s life slipping away.

The maester and his acolytes get to them and Alec has to physically drag Magnus away to give them space, since the younger Prince doesn’t want to let go. Magnus struggles against him for a brief moment and then gives up, his body slumping down in Alec’s hold.

 

* * *

 

Ragnor doesn’t die.

His throat was cut but by a miracle of fate, it wasn’t deep enough.

When the assault happened Magnus and Ragnor were alone and they managed to fend off the assassins, but one of them swiped his dagger across the Prince’s throat before Magnus got to him.

Alec stands in the doorway to Ragnor’s private quarters, where the Prince is laid out in bed, still unconscious. There are thick bandages wrapped around his neck. Magnus is sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his brother’s hand. He looks impossibly young like that, Alec thinks, looking at Ragnor with such sorrow. Finally, he spots Alec and with a sigh and a brief kiss to his brother’s hand, he gets up and they leave the room.

Alec doesn’t say anything until they get to Magnus’ chambers. He’s not sure if there even is anything to say. He was never good at comforting others - maybe except for his siblings, but to him that was easier than breathing - so he’s not sure if he can find the words.

Magnus is the first to break the silence.

“Those assassins were from the Shax order,” he says as he fills two glasses with strongwine and hands Alec one of them. “Valentine’s trademark pets.”

“Why would he go after Dorne all of a sudden?” Alec asks, his brow furrowing. He takes a sip from his glass and cringes slightly, still not used to how strong Dornish wine is.

It doesn’t make sense. Valentine might be power-obsessed and crazy for control, but he isn’t a bad tactician. The assassination attempt on Ragnor wasn’t a rushed decision. But he can’t hope to overtake Dorne even if Ragnor dies - he doesn’t have enough ships to take Sunspear from the sea and gods know he won’t be able to get his army through the desert in the west. So why antagonize House Fell? Why now?

And then, between one heartbeat and another, Alec suddenly understands.

“It’s because of me,” he whispers, placing his glass on the table with shaking hands, his body silently vibrating with a mixture of regret and fury, “because you took me in. He wants to send a message.”

“Oh, it’s received, loud and clear,” Magnus hisses, his fingers tightening on the fragile glass so hard Alec thinks he might break it. “My brother might never speak again but we won’t need words to give him our reply.”

“Magnus, no.” Alec closes the distance between them, unsure if his touch will be welcome or not, but he places one hand on the Prince’s shoulder anyways. “Don’t do anything rash. I... I’ll go.” Alec manages not to flinch when Magnus looks at him sharply. “Me being here has caused your house nothing but trouble and grief. I can’t stay, if that means provoking Valentine against your family. I’ll leave.”

“No.” Magnus grabs his hand as it falls from his shoulder. “This changes nothing. We _will_ take down Valentine.” He frowns. “But now he made it personal.”

“Magnus...”

“We will do this with or without you, Alexander,” Magnus says, a spark of his earlier fury reignited in his voice. He sets down his wine, turning slightly so that they are standing in front of each other. Magnus takes both of Alec’s hands in his and Alec has no choice but to look in Magnus’ eyes. They are filled with passion, with righteous anger and conviction.

“But if you stay... I am yours.”

Alec’s heart skips a beat and he doesn’t dare to breathe, afraid of disturbing the moment.

“Your enemies will be my enemies. I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it, by the old gods and the new.”

“I--” Alec stutters, too stunned to put his feelings into words. He feels dazed and light-headed, like that time where he broke his arm and was given milk of the poppy. He’s aware only of Magnus, the rest of the world forgotten. He can’t tear his gaze away from Magnus’ eyes, can’t feel anything but the gentle touch of Magnus’ thumb as it runs over his own knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Magnus whispers, patient and understanding as always and Alec feels his throat clamp up with emotion. How can this man always know exactly what to say to him? “Just tell me you will stay.”

Alec does the only thing that he can do, given that he still can’t find his voice.

He nods.

 

* * *

  

Alec doesn’t see much of Magnus for the next couple of days. He is busy taking care of Dorne’s business, since Ragnor still hasn’t woken up. The maester is convinced that he will pull through, though with a throat in ruin, it’s highly unlikely that he will speak again. Alec is left in company of Catarina and Tessa. Usually the two women are easy-going and peaceful, but the attack on their Prince makes their blood boil with need for revenge.

One of the nights finds Alec sitting in a plush chair under a fig tree with a book in his lap, enjoying the cool breeze from the sea, when Magnus joins him. He doesn’t say anything for the longest while, just looking at Alec. His eyes are a little tired, like he hasn’t slept for days. Alec suspects that he hasn’t.

“Walk with me,” Magnus says and gets up and Alec doesn’t hesitate to follow.

Their shoulders brush against each other as they walk through the castle grounds for some time. Eventually they come to a stop in one of the gardens, filled with the little lights of glowbugs and the soft murmur of a pool with small fountain. It’s quiet and intimate and Alec isn’t really surprised when Magnus takes one of his hands in both of his.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Magnus murmurs as he looks down to their joined hands. “About you bringing only trouble for my family. I don’t believe that is true. I think your presence here only hastened the events that were already in motion for years.” He sighs. “You being in Dorne is a catalyst for a change and I am so very sorry you had to go through so much for that to happen.”

“It’s okay,” Alec says, but Magnus only shakes his head.

“No, it is not. Nearly losing Ragnor made me realize that you too have almost lost everything. And that you are here, in a foreign country, waiting for something to happen. How alone you must feel.”

Alec wants to protest, to tell Magnus that he’s wrong, but he can’t. The truth is, he _does_ feel alone, despite Magnus’ best efforts to make him comfortable. The Lightwoods were a family that always stuck close, no matter what differences they might have had. Being on his own so suddenly is more than a little unnerving.

“This is one of the reasons why I am offering you a chance to change that.” Magnus looks him in the eyes and it’s the first time Alec sees that he is nervous, though he hides it well. “If you will have me, I would like to join our houses.”

Alec gapes, for a brief moment, because out of all things he expected to hear, it wasn’t _that_.

“It’s-- I don’t know--” Alec closes his eyes for a second, frustrated with his inability to string words together whenever Magnus is concerned. Finally, he sighs with exasperation. “ _Magnus_.”

The Prince waits patiently, allowing Alec to gather his thoughts.

“Are you... are you asking what I think you’re asking?”

Alec seems so perplexed, so unsure of himself that it makes Magnus’ heart break.

“I am.”

“Magnus, we can’t.” Alec sounds like it physically pains him to say those words. “No house in the seven kingdoms would see this marriage as legitimate.”

“Fuck that,” Magnus hisses and the amount of viciousness in his tone is startling. “Fuck all of them. Fuck the nobles and the king. Fuck the fat septons with their high towers and crystal crowns. In their eyes, marriage is a law. Laws change as often as rulers do and soon the Iron Throne is going to have a new queen.”

Alec’s chest grows tight with a wave of emotion, the warmth that spreads through him at the sight of Magnus’ stubborn refusal to fit the socially acceptable mold.

“And even if you disregard all of that, I am not doing this for them.”

“Then why?” Alec asks, his voice barely above whisper.

Magnus breathes out, a long and slightly shaky sigh leaving him in a quiet whoosh of air.

“Because I would like to offer you the protection of my house and the loyalty of the Dornish people, who would embrace you as one of their own. I would like to give you the comfort in knowing that no matter what happens, you will always have people who will have your back. Because your family suffered through so much and you deserve more.” Magnus pauses. “Because from the moment I laid eyes on you for the first time months ago, back at Idris, I couldn’t think about anyone else. You are brave, stupidly loyal and self-sacrificing and now that I know you, I can’t stand the idea of not being yours.”

Alec’s eyes are still locked on Magnus’ own and he can’t bring himself to look away.

He never thought he would have the chance to have this. He resigned himself to the idea of a political marriage long ago. Seven hells, he was actually _grateful_ that he knew and liked Lydia, which was more than he could have hoped for. But now, despite all the tragedy that fell on his house, he actually has control over his own fate, maybe for the first time in his life.

Alec sighs and looks up at the tree branches above them, lit up with dozens of glowbugs. He can feel Magnus’ hands squeezing his, a nervous gesture that betrays Magnus’ crumbling composure.

“We don’t have a godswood,” Alec says, shifting his gaze back down to look at Magnus. “But I suppose this will do.”

Magnus looks surprised but after a moment his expression shifts into something else, something joyous and fond and truly beautiful. With a small, happy smile, Magnus takes off one of the many rings he wears on everyday basis. It’s shaped like a snake, with multiple coils wrapping around the wearer’s finger. It’s quite simple, made from gold and it’s tiny eyes are two black diamonds.

“We don’t really follow the tradition of changing cloaks here in Dorne. We prefer something a little more permanent,” Magnus says as he gently slips the ring onto Alec’s finger. “Alexander of House Lightwood. With this ring I take you, a man trueborn and noble, as my husband. To cherish and protect, in joy and in sorrow. I promise my love to you. For I am yours and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

Alec’s heart is beating like crazy and he feels light-headed but it’s a welcome feeling, one born out of genuine happiness rather than fear of the unknown. He wears only one ring that he could give to Magnus and he doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hand.

“Alexander, you don’t have to--” Magnus starts, but Alec stops his protest with a shake of his head.

“I want to,” Alec says as he puts the Lightwood family ring on Magnus’ finger. Magnus’ eyes are wide, like he can’t really believe Alec would give up such important heirloom for him. “With this ring I take you, Magnus of House Fell, as my husband. To have and to hold, in good times and the bad. This I swear before the old gods and the new. For I am yours and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

They are married now, for all intents and purposes. Alec feels the first tendrils of panic wrapping themselves around his heart. He doesn’t know if it was a good idea or not. It might end up in more heartache and tragedy. He’s not sure if he could bear it, losing Magnus like he lost so many people close to him.

Some of his fear must show on his face because one of Magnus’ hands reaches up and he splays his fingers on the nape of Alec’s neck, his fingers strong and warm. He pulls Alec down into a kiss and just like that, all the anxiety melts away as soon as their lips meet. This is familiar now, familiar and safe, reassuring in a way that nothing else will ever be. Nothing could be more important than this. All of Alec’s attention is focused only on the kiss, gentle and slow at first, but growing in urgency as seconds pass.

They retreat to Alec’s guest rooms for dinner, the table near the balcony already set up with food and wine. But before Magnus can take a seat, Alec pulls him away. He can feel a furious blush creeping up his neck and cheeks but his expression is determined as he leads Magnus towards the bed.

“Isn’t that what comes after marriage ceremony?” Alec whispers as he sits down at the edge of the mattress, tugging at Magnus’ waist until the Prince has no choice but to stand between his legs. “The bedding?”

Magnus looks dumbstruck at first but after a moment he reaches out to cradle Alec’s jaw in his hands, like he’s something delicate and precious.

“Alexander, we don’t have to do anything tonight. Or at any other night, for that matter. I will never force you to do something you are not comfortable with.”

“You’re not forcing me.” Alec gives him a shy smile. His eyes are wide and bright. It’s clear that he’s nervous and tries to hide it. “I want this. I want you, _husband_.”

And that is where Magnus’ self-control snaps.

He leans down to kiss him again, but this time it’s different. It’s passionate and hungry and wet and it sends a shiver of excitement down Alec’s spine. He whines as he crawls up the bed, until he’s on his back. Magnus follows, his body covering Alec’s. Alec lets out a groan when Magnus licks at the sensitive spot on his neck, right over his pulse point.

This is what marriage should be like, Alec thinks. This is what he almost gave up upon.

“Magnus,” Alec whimpers as the Prince bites down gently, marking him as his. Alec wraps his arms around Magnus’ shoulders, holding him closer, needing to feel all of him.

Alec isn’t sure that what they have can be called love, not _yet_ , but he’s convinced that they are going to get there, sooner or later.

 

* * *

  

Alec wakes up to the sound of hushed conversation and a door closing. He opens one eye cautiously. Thankfully, the blinds are shut and the room is painted with stripes of light and shadow, easier on the eyes than the full force of Dornish sun.

Magnus notices that he’s awake and slips back into bed. He’s naked - they both are - and Alec really shouldn’t feel like blushing since they are married, but it seems that his brain hasn’t caught up with the news yet. That he’s allowed to look and admire, because this gorgeous man is his husband now.

“Good morning, love,” Magnus murmurs as he places a tender kiss on Alec’s brow.

“Mhm.” Alec mumbles in reply as he wraps one arm around Magnus’ chest. “Who was it?”

“My captain of the guard.”

Alec’s eyes snap open and his head jerks up from the pillow, fast enough that he almost smacks his forehead into Magnus’ nose.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, feeling wide awake now. “Is Ragnor--”

“My brother is fine, as far as I can tell.” Magnus soothes him. There is a suspicious shine in his eyes and he’s smirking. It’s a barely-there quirk of his lips but it’s definitely a smirk.

“Then what’s going on?” Alec narrows his eyes at the Prince.

Magnus runs his palm over Alec’s bare shoulder.

“Our watch towers at the coast have spotted a fleet on the course to Sunspear. They can’t tell how many ships there are, but first reports say it’s at least fifty, if not more.”

Alec feels cold all over, as if someone turned his soul into ice.

“Valentine?” He asks, trying not to panic. Magnus doesn’t look worried but that doesn’t really mean anything.

Valentine can’t be here. Not now, not when Alec finally got a taste of the happiness he denied himself for so long.

Alec is not going to let him take one more thing away from him, even if that means trading his own life for it.

“The flagship has a banner with a single star, yes,” Magnus confirms and Alec lets out an angry sound of disbelief. The Prince shakes his head though, a small smile on his lips. “But right next to it is a black banner with a white tree.”

The Lightwood sigil. That makes no sense and…

Alec gasps as the answer finally hits him and the happiness he already felt warming his heart now spreads across his body, filling him with hope and joy.

Jace.

Jace is here.

 

* * *

  

**Epilogue**

 

They call it _Morghūlilare Leghagon_.

The High Valyrian name translates to the Mortal Cup, in the common tongue.

It is the real reason why Valentine was so furious when queen Jocelyn fled to Essos. She took it from him and managed to hide it from his clutches, even for the price of her own life.

And now they have it.

The Mortal Cup is a powerful artifact from the times of old Valyria. No one is sure where it came from and some didn’t believe it even existed anymore, but Clarissa Morgenstern holds its power now.

It is said that whoever drinks from the Cup will possess a great power, a gift from the gods. Alec doesn’t know how much truth there is to it, but when Jace asks him to drink together from it, he can’t imagine anyone else he would rather do it with. They drink as one and Alec doesn’t remember what happens after that, but when he wakes up he feels stronger.

He _is_ stronger. Faster and more deadly too.

The ships and army of sellswords that came with them were bought with the reserves of gold that Lightwoods had in the Iron Bank of Braavos. They are betting all of their fortune on the chance that they win the war.

Then again, if they lose… money holds no meaning for the dead.

Clary is a short and slim young woman but her spine is made of steel and she’s not afraid to negotiate with them the terms of their victory. She doesn’t protest when Alec says he would rather die than have another Morgenstern rule over the North. He doesn’t have anything against Clary - he doesn’t know her well enough and he’s willing to give her the benefit of the doubt - but he’s not going to surrender North’s autonomy to anyone, not if he can help it.

Companies of sellswords. Dorne’s riders and fleet. Army of the North, united under command of House Santiago and Izzy’s leadership.

They all drink from the Cup.

They go to war.

 

* * *

  

The next spring they are all united in the Idris’ godswood.

The queen and her court is there, Clary’s arm wrapped around Jace’s. They are to be married in the fall.

Isabelle is there too, obviously, standing close with Simon, Lord Santiago’s cousin. Ragnor is not too far away, Catarina and Tessa by his side. The high neck of his shirt hides the ugly scar running across his throat.

Magnus looks up into Alec’s eyes, happy and bright and filled with love.

As he repeats his marriage vows he can’t help but to think that he was right.

Alec does look amazing in a crown.

**Author's Note:**

> Every fic is first posted to my tumblr and I usually upload it to AO3 with a delay. If you want to read my stories as soon as I finish them, follow me there: theonetruenorth.tumblr.com
> 
> Beta-read by [brizzbee](http://brizzbee.tumblr.com/)


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